


In a Dark, Dark Wood

by Inksinger



Series: On Azerothian Soil [11]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types
Genre: Arthas Gets Laid and Confused, Culture Shock, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drunken Shenanigans, Gnolls, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Interspecies Sex, M/M, The Author Regrets Nothing, Varian Wrynn Is a Horrible Friend, royals behaving badly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:07:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28055874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inksinger/pseuds/Inksinger
Summary: After ditching his guards and indulging in a night of drunken revelry, Prince Arthas decides to prove his virility as a young man by fighting the local fauna of Elwynn with his bare hands.He succeeds... after a fashion.
Relationships: Arthas Menethil/Hogger
Series: On Azerothian Soil [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/130650
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	In a Dark, Dark Wood

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a crack pairing challenge over a year ago. I regret nothing and now ship these idiots as a Thing That Happened.

Elwynn was an eerie place to travel in the dead of night, its shadowy boughs and uncanny stillness a far cry from the vibrant, storybook charm Arthas had observed during the final leg of his journey to Stormwind.

Even the first few steps he had taken beyond the murky light of the roadside lanterns had plunged him into utter darkness, and now that the road was out of sight altogether it was all but impossible to see more than a few feet in any direction - the trees grew too close together and sprouted with far too many leaves to allow more than the barest trickle of moonlight to reach the forest floor.

It didn't help that he had no torch or lantern to light the way.

The fact that he was drunk likely also did him no favors.

The night had started innocently enough: After his induction into the Silver Hand at the Cathedral of the Light, and after enduring a wave of nobles and commoners alike gathered to greet and congratulate him, Arthas had managed to slip away into the city and lose his guards in the crowd.

His success had come in part from his own ability to charm a handful of commoners into pointing his guards every direction but the right one - but the majority of the credit went to Varian, who had somehow managed to trail him without Arthas ever noticing. The instant Arthas had been alone, the King of Stormwind had materialized beside him and hauled him off down a narrow, empty side street; from there they had darted through back alleys and through a large residential district before sneaking out of the city altogether.

Looking back now, it was difficult to recall the exact route they had taken through Stormwind, and he couldn't at all remember the journey after that - but he remembered the inn at Goldshire, and the mead and hot bread and fresh cheese he and Varian had been all but bombarded with by a staff that seemed quite used to seeing their King appear on their doorstep unaccompanied and without so much as a breath of notice in advance.

He remembered the drinking games that had followed, as well - first their competition to see who could down more liquor, and then the drunken bets and dares they had eventually begun trading after they lost count of how many shots and steins they had each chugged. Those had started innocently enough, though as the night had worn on and the rest of the inn’s patrons had relaxed and joined in on the fun, things had escalated - from stacking shot glasses to arm wrestling matches, and from there to loud, painfully off-key singing while a pair of young ladies had spun delightedly about the center of the bar…

Somehow the game had moved outside, and after a couple more half-brained challenges and bets Varian had turned to Arthas, eyes wide and bright with drink, and said, “You - you know the gnolls? In the woods? You ever fight one?”

Of course Arthas knew of the gnolls. They had been one of the handful of dangers he had been briefed on before his journey to Stormwind. Doglike humanoids, they were, with enough sentience to garb themselves in armor and wield blades and clubs as weaponry, but with the temperament of rabid animals. Their jaws were strong enough to crush a man's femur, and their claws were sharp enough to shred through leather and padded cotton and disembowel a man all in the same swipe.

It was one of these creatures that Varian had suggested Arthas should track down and try to fight.

Bare-handed.

Somewhere in the young king’s drunken reasoning there must have been the acknowledgement that doing something so brazen would likely draw Jaina's ire if she found out. Arthas was sure of this, because otherwise his foggy memory of assuring Varian that she'd be too busy worrying over him to be too upset made very little sense.

As did his decision to up the ante by bolting into the forest completely naked, on the grounds that it would be doubly impressive if he succeeded in wrestling a gnoll in the manner of the ancient heroes so often depicted in oil tableaux.

Still… it was true. Jaina might be angry at him for taking such a risk, and his parents and Uther would likely blow a gasket, and Calia would scoff at him and his guards would all suffer heart failure - but ah, if he came back with a gnoll slung over his shoulders, bare-chested and bloodied and bearing a tale of having beaten the creature with naught but his fists! Even Uther couldn't help but be impressed at such a sight, and Jaina would practically fall into his arms.

…Unless Jaina had developed a softness for gnolls, as well…

He stopped, frowning at the sudden thought. No, Jaina had a bad habit of adopting monsters. First orcs - maybe gnolls were next on her list. Maybe she'd see the one he dragged back and decide it might have made a cute, fluffy pet…

Something moved in the foliage up ahead, distracting him from his reverie. Annoyed, Arthas moved forward several places and squinted into the darkness, seeking out whatever had disturbed the sleeping forest. Whatever it was had to be too big to be a rodent - but it didn't sound much like a wolf either. Were bears nocturnal…?

He edged around a large tree and found himself staring at a strange figure, dimly illuminated in a patch of moonlight several yards ahead: Something roughly man-sized, but sporting a massive hunch in its back and all but dragging its knuckles as it snuffled about in the underbrush.

Arthas leaned closer, trying to make out a bit more of the odd creature. That couldn't be a—

The thing’s head swung about; its massive, doglike teeth caught the moonlight and glittered faintly as its jaws parted.

Arthas swore and ducked for cover.

That was a gnoll. That had to be a gnoll - but why didn't anyone warn him the blasted things were so _big?_ What, was he meant to have _assumed_ they would be so massive just because they were considered humanoid?

The foliage moved again, louder this time, and too late Arthas realized that the “cover” he had chosen was little more than a few trailing fern fronds. Pale-skinned and blond as Arthas was, he was practically white where the moonlight touched him, in sharp contrast to the inky black of the forest. If the beast hadn't seen him already, it would soon enough.

Then again, even if gnolls weren't built for nocturnal activity (and again, he couldn't be sure whether or not they were, because _nobody had told him that)_ , surely their noses were strong enough to pick up the scent of a human in the middle of a forest…

The creature stopped moving.

Arthas held his breath and prepared to bolt out of the way should the creature come barreling towards him. If he was going to stand a chance of besting the thing in physical combat, he'd need to surprise it before it could bring those claws or teeth to bear.

It moved closer, slowly - one step, then another, and then a very hesitant shuffle, as though the gnoll wasn't entirely sure it wanted to tangle with whatever might be hiding in the forest.

 _That's two of us,_ Arthas thought. Suddenly this excursion didn't seem quite so clever anymore…

The movement stopped again, and then there came a new sound, not unlike a dog whuffing at a sound or scent it hadn't yet identified as being dangerous. Arthas sat still and made no sound, and after a moment the creature whuffed again, louder this time - and more curiously, he thought. Was it… calling out, to see what might be out there? Like a man might do?

Carefully, Arthas reached out and touched the nearest frond, rattling it just enough to let a low, shaking hiss sound out into the darkness. Would the creature startle at the sound, or come closer to investigate—?

A wall of fur and muscle slammed into his chest, driving him off his feet and sending him flying onto his back several yards back from where he was struck. The initial strike and the landing that followed knocked the wind from his lungs and left him dizzied for a crucial second - and then the starlight overhead was blotted out, and he was met with a cackle and a blast of hot, foul-smelling breath as the gnoll loomed over him.

“‘Lo, human,” the creature rasped.

The Lightdamned thing could _speak,_ too?!

The gnoll lowered its head and snorted, sending a blast of air across his throat and gooseflesh racing along his neck and arms.

Arthas grimaced and tried to roll away, only to realize that the creature had him in a compromising spot: The gnoll’s fore- and hind paws were planted firmly on either side of him, so that it was straddling him not unlike a dog or wolf standing over another, more submissive creature after bullying it into submission. The comparison rankled, as did the realization that the gnoll’s build and his own long legs meant that getting out from under the beast would take more than a cheap brawler’s trick.

“Scared?” the gnoll asked, and Arthas didn't need to see its face to know the thing was grinning - its voice dripped with laughter. “Poor ickle hu—”

Arthas reached up and grabbed for its face, and his hands closed fast around the thing’s parted jaws just an instant before the gnoll reared back with a startled yowl.

Still grasping the creature's maw, Arthas twisted himself hard to the side. The gnoll had no choice but to follow the movement of its head or let him snap its neck, and went tumbling sideways into the underbrush - leaving Arthas free to haul himself back onto his feet.

Running wasn't an option - Arthas couldn't remember the way he had come and had no sense of direction in the dark, to say nothing of his near blindness in the dense, shadowy forest. He would have to fight the gnoll and kill it or send it running if he wanted to get out of this with his skin still attached.

He could only barely make out the creature's silhouette in the darkness, but it was enough to be sure the thing wasn't quite back on its feet. Arthas lunged forward and flung himself against the gnoll's side, hands scrabbling for purchase in the creature's long, wiry fur as the gnoll staggered and went down again under his weight. If he could find its neck…

Hard muscles rolled under the creature's pelt, and Arthas braced himself for the thing to stand or try to roll. A stupid mistake - the gnoll reached up and grabbed his arms first, _then_ flung itself onto its back, crushing Arthas beneath it in the process.

“Dumb,” the gnoll cackled. Or - that's what Arthas was relatively certain it had said. It was hard to tell with his face squashed against the thing’s meaty shoulder.

Arthas snarled and tore his right arm loose from the creature's grasp, then swung blindly at its side. His fist connected hard with the creature's ribs, and the gnoll squealed and rolled off again.

“Sorry, who's the idiot here?” Arthas grunted, leaping upright yet again.

The gnoll spat and shook its head irritability, but backed up a step rather than advancing on him.

“Dumb human,” it growled. “Trees are dark. No fur, no blades. Dumb.”

Arthas grimaced and narrowly resisted the urge to lunge again at the creature. It wasn't wrong - but he'd be damned if he let some mongrel get away with calling _him_ a fool.

“And I suppose you think yourself clever,” he sneered, “just because you can speak?”

The gnoll spat again and snapped its teeth together with a hollow _clack._

“Hogger got brains more than human,” it said. “Hogger got strength more, also. Dumb human, fighting Hogger!”

“Hogger?” Arthas repeated. “What the hell is a hogger?”

The gnoll snorted.

“No ‘what’,” it snapped. “Hogger is who. Hogger is me.”

Ah. So the thing was _named_ Hogger.

“You,” Hogger added, and Arthas thought he saw it wave a hand at him. “What you called?”

“Why do you care?” Arthas asked with a frown.

The gnoll made a strange sound at that - a long, disapproving rattle that rose in pitch and then broke off into another snap of its teeth.

“Dumb human,” it said again. “No name even.”

Arthas scowled. He'd had just about enough of this creature and its mouth.

“Why should I give you my name?” he demanded again. “You just tried to kill me!”

“Yes!” Hogger said, and somehow it sounded more exasperated than angry. “Dumb human fight Hogger. No fur, no weapons, still not die. We trade names.”

“You want me to tell you my name… because you haven't managed to kill me yet?” Arthas asked slowly, not entirely sure he had understood the creature correctly.

Hogger hopped about and let out another odd sound, this one somewhere between a huff and an irritable groan.

“Yes!” Hogger said again. “When gnoll-folk fight, trade names. Dumb human should, too.” It paused then, and once again Arthas could hear the grin in its voice as it added, “Not ‘dumb human,’ is you?”

“No, my name is not _dumb human,”_ Arthas snapped. Impertinent wretch.

“Tell!” Hogger said.

“And what if I don't?” Arthas asked, more than a little tired of this creature's antics.

Hogger growled, long and low and angry, and the hair on the back of Arthas’ neck stood on end at the sound of it.

“Then fight more,” it answered menacingly. “And keep not dying. No name means not people. Not people means _food.”_

“Fine, then,” Arthas said, squaring himself off again. “Then give it your best shot, gnoll.”

Hogger came flying at him with a howl.

*

It was dawn before Arthas finally reappeared at the edge of Goldshire, bruised and bloodied and limping slightly through the undergrowth just as the little town began to stir for the morning.

Varian spotted him first, having waited through the last few hours of the night for any sign of his return. The young king bolted to his side as Arthas came out into the open, bearing a large blanket in his arms.

“Thank the Light,” Varian said, throwing the blanket across Arthas’ tattered shoulders. “You look like hell, you idiot.”

“I feel like hell.” Arthas’ voice was rough with pain and his face was set in a heavy scowl as he tugged the blanket more securely about himself. “Tell me there's a healer inside - I fixed the worst of it myself, but if anyone else sees me like this—”

“Healers and clothes and hot food,” Varian promised, leading him along with the arm still wrapped about his shoulders and likely not meaning for the gesture to come across as patronizing as it did. “I sent word back to Stormwind that we'd gone out for drinks, so nobody should be out looking for you just yet.”

“When was that?” Arthas asked as they stepped into the inn.. Fortunately the only ones awake at the moment were the staff - and they all had the decency to ignore the pair as they made their way upstairs.

“Just after you went barreling off into the woods,” Varian said with a grin. “I figured there wasn't any reason to panic unless you weren't back by mid-morning.”

Well. That was a relief. If everyone thought he'd just gone out for a harmless night of drinking, he might have another hour or so before Uther or his guards - or all of them - showed up looking for him. He could make himself look presentable by then, surely.

Despite having been every bit as drunk as Arthas, Varian had somehow had the sense to rent a room for the pair of them - or perhaps the owners of the establishment had simply given them one without needing to be asked. Arthas’ gear had been laid out across one of the two beds, and he paused just long enough to appreciate that everything seemed to be present before collapsing onto the second, completely untouched bed beside the first.

The blanket slipped away from his shoulders as he went. This didn't bother him until he heard Varian cough and remembered with a flash of humiliation what Hogger had done to his shoulders.

 _“Gnoll-folk way,”_ he heard Hogger laugh again. _“Loser fights in other ways, dumb human.”_

Indulging the stupid animal had seemed such a good idea at the time, too…

“You probably want a bath before you see that healer,” Varian commented awkwardly. “There's, uh… There's a lot of… blood…”

It wasn't blood. Arthas knew it, and Varian had to be able to see as much for himself. But he appreciated Varian’s tact, albeit dimly.

“A bath sounds fantastic,” Arthas grumbled, hauling himself upright again.

“Just through the door,” Varian said, pointing him in the right direction and fighting valiantly to keep from grinning as Arthas hobbled past him. “I'll go fetch a healer while you're… busy.”

Arthas grumbled in thanks and stepped into the bathroom. The tub wasn't anything as lavish as the one in his personal bathing chamber in Lordaeron, but it promised hot, soapy water with just a tug of the service cord beside the door, and that was good enough for Arthas.

“One more thing,” Varian said, catching the door before Arthas could close it and passing something through.

“What—” Arthas started to ask - and then stopped short.

Varian had handed him a comb.

“Your hair looks like shit,” Varian said with a grin.

Arthas slammed the door in his face.


End file.
